Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch
by Low-Ki
Summary: Chapter 5: In which a long overdue party is thrown and certain events are set in motion, some of which can not be undone and will have grave repercussions…
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch: Chapter 1- Connections in the Dark  
  
Harry Potter sat on his bed, his face stained with tears that no one knew about. He had been sitting here most of the summer. And one day, three days before his sixteenth birthday, a time of happiness for most, a time to come together with family and friends, a drastic realization hit him.  
  
'I am alone' He thought. 'Totally alone.' Hedwig, his bird, was no comfort now. Not since the loss of his Godfather, Sirius Black. He found no comfort in the letters from his friends. These simply frustrated him more. They were away, living in a world of protection. They had parents to keep them away from the world that was crumbling around him. Harry had no one. Not anymore.  
  
Remus Lupin hadn't contacted him in weeks. It wouldn't have mattered if he had. He could say nothing. No matter how much he thought he shared Harry's grief, he didn't. Not totally, at least. He had people. Harry was alone.  
  
Harry's Aunt and Uncle, who were usually quite horrible to him, had taken the stance that he didn't exist. Harry pretended to be happy with this, but he desperately wanted attention of some sort, any sort. He didn't want to feel alone.  
  
But that didn't change. He doubted it would. The world looked bleak to him. The muggle and wizarding worlds. Lord Voldemort would slowly take both over. There was no hope. Not that Harry could see, anyway.  
  
Harry sighed and lied back on the bed, a stiff mattress atop a squeaky frame. He closed his eyes and silently prayed that tonight he would sleep. But he knew no one would answer him.  
  
He was walking. It was a desert, he thought, as the air was hot and dry, and the ground sank beneath him. He was staring at the ground, but even if he wasn't he couldn't of seen anything, it was to dark. He wasn't worried about being attacked, he didn't know why, he simply wasn't. It was a good feeling.  
  
He continued walking. The dessert around him didn't change. It was vast, infinite, peaceful. Harry liked it here. It was dark, but that didn't bother him anymore.  
  
He had been here before, once. He had seen a green fire burning off in the distance. He woke up before reaching it. He hoped to find it again tonight. He didn't know why, but he needed to find it. He had to know what it was. It would fix things. He knew it would.  
  
He looked up, searching for the green light. He saw it, off to the west. He walked that way. He didn't run, it wouldn't be peaceful then. He continued to walk, and the ground changed beneath him. It began to feel as if Harry was walking uphill.  
  
Harry got to the top of the hill and looked down. Off in the distance he saw the green light. Closer though, down at the base of the hill was a tree. It seemed to glow in its own soft light. He walked to it.  
  
It was a large tree. It could have been an oak, Harry didn't know. The branches were thick and strong. From one of the lower ones a rope hung, tied in a noose. Harry walked around the noose, considering the unthinkable.  
  
"Now's not your time boy." A voice said from beside him. Harry turned and saw a man who hadn't been there before. At least Harry had not seen him there. "It's not your time." He said again.  
  
The man was old, very old. His face was filled with lines and wrinkles. He had only one eye, the other socket was bare. He sat on a rock, and held a walking stick. A raven sat on each shoulder. All three stared at Harry.  
  
"Who are you?" Harry asked, leaning up against the tree. He crossed his arms. He was confused, but not afraid.  
  
The old man laughed, it was more of a coff than a laugh really. "I have many names, Harry Potter." He said. "You wouldn't know them if I told you, so it is not important."  
  
Harry felt a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had felt it before, he thought, but couldn't remember when. Maybe he hadn't, he couldn't tell here.  
  
"Are you evil?" Harry asked, tentively. He didn't want to anger the old man. Angering strangers was not a good idea. Harry had learned this.  
  
The old man laughed again. The two ravens at his side didn't bristle. He looked at the ground momentarily, as if considering his next answer. If Harry had been thinking clearly, or if he had been somewhere else, this may have seemed peculiar. Here it didn't, or couldn't.  
  
"No Harry, I am not evil. Or evil in the way you understand it. That may not assure you, but I will tell I shall not harm you. Not here, not now. That doesn't sound to good either eh?" He laughed again.  
  
Harry now looked back to the fire. The green flame burning in the distance. He didn't know how long he was staring there, but when he turned around the man was looking at him still, as if studying him.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked, looking again to the flame off in the distance. It hadn't gotten any closer. Harry hadn't noticed.  
  
"That." The old man said. "That Harry Potter is your destiny. Your fate, if you will." He chuckled. "That is your future." Harry stared at it for a long time. When he turned back around he looked at the man, as if expecting some advice.  
  
"What?" The man asked. "That's all I have for you kid. I ain't no damn fortune teller. I say what I'm supposed to say. Not what's gonna happen. I tell ya what ya have to do." And with that Harry woke up.  
  
Harry sat up in his bed and looked around. It was three in the morning. He saw Hedwig at his window, a letter tied to her. He went over and untied it, and siting at his desk he read it.  
  
Harry,  
  
We need to talk. I will pick you up at noon tomorrow. You will be returning to the Dursley's later that night. See you later.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
Harry went back and tried futilely to sleep. It was going to be a long day... 


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch  
  
Chapter 2: Of Dreams and Mysteries and all Things Between  
  
Harry Potter practically floated down the steps the next morning. He was like a ghost. He was pale, as sitting in his dark room all day didn't give him a chance to tan. His eyes were listless. Dark bags hung under them. He didn't sleep. His Aunt and Uncle knew that, they didn't care. They tried not to look at the boy. Maybe if they ignored him he would go away.  
  
Harry sat down at the dining room table and began to eat the meager bowl of cereal his Aunt had left for him. He didn't speak, he had nothing to say. Both sides liked it that way. He didn't mention Dumbledore's impending arrival, he wanted to see their faces. A loud booming sound from overhead signified Dudley's awakening. He made his way downstairs and sat across from him, looking pointedly at the table the whole time.  
  
The thought briefly passed Harry's mind that Dudley feared him, that he could do something with that. He didn't ponder it to long, he had no interest scaring muggles.  
  
Harry hated that place, vehemently. He hated the flowery drapes, the bright colors of the tablecloth and living room. He hated the rooms filled with stuff that belonged to his cousin. He hated the cupboard under the stairs. Most of all he hated those damn pictures.  
  
Above the fireplace there sat a cornucopia of pictures. Of Dudley, of Harry's aunt and uncle of the three of them of a family. They should have been of him. They should have been of him and his parents, of him with his mom and dad. But they were stolen from him. Harry was left alone. Dudley got his parents, and all the things of the world, Harry got nothing. Dudley didn't deserve anything. He didn't deserve parents that loved him, however misguided and blind that love was. Harry did. But he couldn't have them. He hated those pictures.  
  
Harry finished his breakfast and retreated to his room. He took out his potions essay and wrote. He didn't put much effort in. he didn't care to. Snape could yell all he wanted to. Harry would drop the class. He heard a scream from downstairs. Must be noon already.  
  
"BOY!" He heard his uncle yell. "GET DOWN HERE NOW!"  
  
Harry complied. Not out of fear of his uncle. He just did. Harry saw Dumbledore sitting in the living room. If Harry had cared in the slightest he may have laughed at the Sureallness of it all. He didn't.  
  
"Harry, are you ready?" Dumbledore asked him. He was dressed as a muggle. He looked quite normal, dressed in a plain shirt and pants. Harry nodded dumbly. Dumbledore looked concerned but didn't say anything.  
  
They left and got into an orange car parked outside the house. They got in and drove a short distance to a small house. Dumbledore led the way inside. It smelled faintly of bread baking and was full of dust. It was furnished sparingly, with all of it being old but well maintained. Harry sat down at the kitchen table. Dumbledore sat across from him.  
  
"Tea, Harry?" He offered. Harry shook his head. Dumbledore nodded and flicked his wrist, and a teapot and cup appeared on the table in front of him. He poured himself a cup silently, never taking his gaze off Harry. Harry returned it, steadfast. Dumbledore sipped it and set it back down. "Too hot."  
  
Harry didn't reply. He didn't have anything to say to this man, he told himself. At the same time he wanted to let it all rush out of him, all the grief and anguish. He wanted to break down in tears.  
  
Dumbledore saw the drama play out in Harry's eyes. He had seen it a thousand times before. Never really to this intensity, but he knew what was happening. He said nothing. Not yet, it wasn't time. Harry had to make the decision himself. Dumbledore could not push the issue. That only drove them away.  
  
"Why did you bring me here Professor?" Harry asked quietly after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Dumbledore looked at him through his wire- rimmed glasses. Not like a headmaster, Harry didn't need that now. He looked at him as a grandfather would look at his grandson. Harry returned his stare, somewhat awkwardly.  
  
"I simply wanted to make sure you were doing well." Dumbledore replied simply. Harry's head dropped. He knew it, and he didn't want to talk about it.  
  
"I'm fine." He mumbled into his chest. Dumbledore sighed slightly. He sipped at his tea and watched Harry a few moment's longer.  
  
"We both know that's not the case Harry." He said softly. Harry looked up at him. His face was emotionless, but his eyes were wrought with strife and fear. "But that is your right to keep your feelings to yourself. So we will talk about something different. Have you had any odd dreams lately?" He asked, not giving Harry a chance to but in. Harry nodded silently.  
  
"I had one, just last night. It was...." He trailed off. "Weird." He finished with a vocal shrug, not able to find a better word. Dumbledore sipped at his tea again, and motioned for Harry to elaborate. "It was like this big desert. And off in the distance was this green....thing. I couldn't make it out. It looked like fire. I walked towards it. But I couldn't get any closer. I went over a hill and came on a tree." Harry seemed distant now. His voice was far off, almost like he was in a trance. "And there was a noose there. I looked at it."  
  
"Did you put it on?" Dumbledore asked gravely. He seemed startled now. His calm demeanor had vanished. He was alarmed. Harry could tell, even in his catatonic type state.  
  
"No." He said. "The man told me not to. He was an odd man. He had one eye. And two birds. He seemed to know me." Harry said quietly. Now that he thought about it, the entire situation confused him. He looked up at Dumbledore and saw that he was alarmed, and now even angry. "I'm s-sorry." Harry sputtered afraid he had angered the man. "I did-didn't know..." He started before Dumbledore interrupted him.  
  
"It's not you my boy. You have nothing to be sorry for. I just didn't think he'd interfere this way. Directly..." He trailed off. He looked into his tea and sipped at it again. After a few minutes of silence he looked back to Harry. He saw the drama still playing out. He couldn't read it. He had to press again. "Anything else you want to tell me Harry?" He asked quietly.  
  
Harry looked down. He wanted to tell him. But he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't understand. This was HIS battle. It was not Dumbledore's or Lupins. It was his. He shook his head. Dumbledore's face and demeanor didn't change. But he was disappointed.  
  
'Come on Harry, you can shake this.' He thought to himself. He stood, and Harry followed him. They left and drove home, silently. When Dumbledore pulled up to #4, he turned back to Harry and spoke.  
  
"Stay strong Harry. Soon it will get better. And if you see this man again, wake up." He stressed the last two words strongly. "Write me immediately. That man is dangerous. Not really to you, but he is very dangerous. I can't tell you more now. I'm sorry for that. I have another "appointment" to keep." He said. Harry left the car and went back inside. Back to his solitude. Back to his hell. Dumbledore pulled out of the drive and commenced to the airport.... 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch

Chapter 3- In Which We Meet New Faces, Some of Which Will Have A Great Effect on the War to Come…

Marie Wythumith used to live in Hogsmead, in a little cottage off of Marlow Street. She would go out each morning, to her little garden in the back and she would watch the bird's come and go. She would watch the tiny wisps of clouds pass by. She would admire the spiraling towers of the castle. She loved living there. She had no fears or worries. She lived a simple life based on routine, and she was happy.

But now things were different. Since the return of You-Know Who everything she knew had changed. Her husband Donald, who she had met during her sixth year at Hogwarts, was an Auror. Naturally Donald had feared for her safety, in this much more dangerous world. He had decided, much to Marie's chagrin, to move both her and himself to Diagon Alley, nearer to the Ministry.

She hated it there. She truly despised it. She wasn't allowed to go out, not even into the street below to the shops. The streets below her were nearly empty all the time. Very few people were brave enough to use the streets of Diagon Alley since the battle in the Dept. of Mysteries. Every day, without fail, there was some sort of altercation between the Death Eaters, or people who supported them, and the various levels of Ministry workers and Aurors. Donald had even been involved once, although he escaped unharmed, most weren't so lucky. Fatalities had been rare thus far, but there was an unspoken and nauseating expectation that these skirmishes were about to intensify, if given the right spark. 

This fact had nearly killed many businesses in the area. The only ones that seemed to be flourishing were the "Seers" and practitioners of Divination. They capitalized on this quite well, always ending their predictions with promises of death and bloodshed. These didn't help the morale of the wizarding world, but that rarely seemed to cross their minds…

 All these things scared Marie. She was afraid of dying. Afraid that Voldemort would win. But most of all she was afraid that Donald would die, that they wouldn't be able to start a family.

It sounded selfish, and in reality it was. Perhaps it was the fact Marie was an only child, but she had always wanted a family. She cherished the idea of being a mother, of providing care for young children. She often fantasized of the day she would have kids running around the house, shouting and making noise. She smiled as she thought of family dinners about the large table she would buy for the dining room.

So each day she prayed for Donald's safety, for her safety. She prayed for the victory of the Ministry. She prayed for protection. She did this every day…

Chicago Illinois- USA

The young man walking through O'Hare Airport didn't look like the most powerful teenager in existence. To be perfectly honest, he looked like the kid you would see hanging out outside the local skate shop. His blonde hair, which normally fell down about his ears and neckline, was held under a skullcap, and his lower left lip was pierced.

He was wearing green mesh basketball shorts, with a black stripe up each side. On one side the letters SXE were printed in white, and on the other side there was 312 printed in white as well. He wore a black shirt, with a red X printed on it. His hands were taped up in black athletic tape, and each was marked in silver sharpie with an X.  He carried only a plain black Duffel bag, and wore a smirk on his face.

"You leaving me sexy?" A young woman asked him as he passed. He turned to face the blonde, who appeared to be a few years older than him. His smirk turned into a full-fledged smile and he walked over to her and gave her a hug.

"Sorry Jenny, but yes I am. Finally got shipped off to boarding school."  He replied with a slight chuckle.

"Where at?"

"England. Well, I think it may be Scotland… I dunno…" He lamented, shrugging. She smiled.

"To bad you're only sixteen, or we could have some fun before ya leave…" She said with a grin and a wink.

"I've told you, my hart belongs to someone else." He replied seriously.

"Who said anything about your hart?" She asked with a sly grin, causing the young man to laugh. "I'm gonna miss you Michael. Take care of yourself." She said giving him one last hug. He returned it in kind.

"I'll miss you to Jen. Don't worry I'll be fine. It's you guy's I'm worried about." The girl could have no idea how much he meant the last statement. "You be careful. I don't want to hear about you getting hurt."

"I will. See ya sometime." She said, a slight tear forming in her eyes.

"I will…" He said as he walked to his gate. He stopped at the entrance to the connecter. He closed his eyes and sighed. 'Please God,' he prayed silently. 'Let me be wrong. Let this feeling I have be wrong.' He took a deep breath and boarded the plane.

The stewardess showed him to his seat, a window seat in the fourth row. A few minutes later a man dressed in black and white sat beside him.

"Hello Father." He said to the Preacher. The man smiled warmly at him.

"Hello young man. How are you this fine day?" He asked with a smile. A red leather Bible sat in his lap. Michael looked out the window. They were climbing higher and higher. Michael watched the clouds for a minute or so, thinking.

"I'm not quite sure how I am, to be honest Father." He said quietly. He was looking at his hands that were folded in his lap.

"Well, what is going on in your life right now?" The Priest asked him kindly. "Why are you heading to England?"

"I'm heading off to a…boarding school. It's kind of a… security precaution." He said slowly. "I bring trouble. Not intentionally, It's just in my blood." He elaborated. The Minister nodded.

"Well, I can see this is a tough time for you. Do you know the Lord?" The Preacher asked him. Michael was somewhat surprised at the forwardness of the man, as most ministers he had met were a little more reserved around the younger sort.

Michael took his time before answering. He had known Him once, as Magic and Religion had mixed much more in America than they had in Europe, where it was almost unheard of.

"We have a… strained relationship." He replied. This was of course an understatement. He hadn't gone for Religion in close to two years, since his parents died.

"Ah. Well, I can see you don't want to get into particulars. I respect that. Perhaps you'd like to hear some scriptures?" He asked patting the Bible in his lap.

Michael smiled.

"Read on Father. I could use a good story."

Okay, sorry for not posting so often, but I kinda forgot about this… Oops. Anyways. I PROMISE this isn't your typical superpower new character story. This is Harry's Story. I know this. Michael is only a supporting character. If I start to stray from that, let me know. This chapter kinda plodded along. Don't worry, everything will start to get better… - KI


	4. Chapter 4

Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Albus Dumbledore pulled into the muggle airport on the South Side of London in his bright yellow mini. The sky was overcast in a dull and gloomy gray. It was drizzling slightly, and it seemed to be getting worse as he got closer to the airport itself. This caused the wizard to chuckle slightly.  
  
"Hmm." He muttered. "Michael seems to be unhappy." The thought worried the Headmaster of Hogwarts slightly.  
  
He parked the car and got out. He made way to the gate his young protégé would be arriving at. He had arrived a few minutes early, so Dumbledore set off to find a sweet shop. He did, and he left a few minutes later about ten pounds poorer and a lot of lemon drops richer.  
  
He returned to the gate and saw that there were people exiting. He stood off to one side, and a few moments later saw Michael, and motioned to him. The young man walked up, and just as Dumbledore had predicted a few minutes before, he seemed to be in a foul mood.  
  
"Nice to see you again Michael." Dumbledore said evenly. Michael had carried his bag on, so they bypassed the crowded baggage claim and headed straight for Dumbledore's lemon colored car.  
  
"Why am I not surprised this is your car?" Michael mused sarcastically. He got in the passengers side without another word. Dumbledore got in and they began the drive to downtown London.  
  
"Nice rain back there." Dumbledore said to him, half jokingly. It elicited no laugh.  
  
"Not mine. Although I think it fits." He responded shortly. Dumbledore was a little taken aback with the frankness he delivered this last comment with.  
  
"Is there something you need to say to me?" Dumbledore asked the young man, with genuine curiosity and concern evident in his voice. The young man smiled.  
  
"Keen observation there Dumbledore." He replied sarcastically, removing the piercing from his lip. "First off, remind me WHY I had to take the dammed muggle airplane?" He asked, taking off the skullcap and shaking out his hair.  
  
"You know the miles of red tape we would have had to go through if you apparated or took a portkey." Dumbledore replied, slightly perturbed. "That's not what is bothering you." He said. It wasn't a question.  
  
"No." Michael said simply. He brushed the hair from his eyes. Something was obviously bothering him. Dumbledore kept his eyes on the road, waiting for his young friend to voice his troubles.  
  
"It's just," He began, "I'm worried about Jessica. Why couldn't she come too?" He asked quietly. Dumbledore looked over to him, and saw that his chin was sitting on his chest, his eyes downcast. They pulled into a parking lot near the Leaky Cauldron, and Dumbledore parked. Before leaving he turned to face Michael.  
  
"You know she wouldn't have come, even if she could have. She has a family there. Plus, you know that if she would have come to, it would have caused an uproar at the Institute."  
  
"Tell me she'll be all right." Michael said softly. Dumbledore frowned. He hated these moments. He encountered them often at Hogwarts. He could never bring himself to lie in these situations. Not to their faces.  
  
"I can't do that." He said sadly. Dumbledore didn't know how Michael would react to this.  
  
"That's..." He trailed off. Everything he was thinking about, which was a lot at the moment suddenly left him. "Not what I wanted to hear." He finished without any emotion at all in his voice. He had learned that trick over the past few years. Dumbledore nodded sadly.  
  
"I'm sorry. With everything you've been going through, with Samael and..." Dumbledore said as a very angry Michael cut him off.  
  
"You do NOT want to finish that sentence." He said in a deadly cold tone. Very few people on Earth would have taken that tone with Albus Dumbledore. But this young man was different. He said it without apology or remorse.  
  
"I'm sorry. I should not have gone there. But if you ever need to talk..." Dumbledore continued before being cut off again.  
  
"I don't." Michael said shortly, in the same unmistakably angry tone of voice.  
  
"About anything," Dumbledore continued, stressing the last word. "My office is always open. Now, I think you should get changed." He said, in a tone that decidedly ended the subject.  
  
Michael nodded and closed his eyes. His breathing was even, and he wore a look of deep concentration. A second later, a black and gold set of wizard's robes were where his raggedy clothes had been only moments before.  
  
They seemed, at first glance at least, to be normal wizarding robes. But upon closer inspection, they were adorned in gold, and there were also several markings, which trained wizards would recognize as Ancient Celtic runes. He also cut off the athletic tape from his hands with a pocketknife and put on a pair of black Dragon hide gloves.  
  
"Okay, I'm ready." He said to Dumbledore. "God I hate this official get- up." He mumbled under his breath. Dumbledore didn't stop walking toward the Leaky Cauldron, but the wizened old man did crack a small smile.  
  
They entered the establishment and all of the chatter ceased. It wasn't everyday that Albus Dumbledore entered a place like this, but it was his guest that was receiving the most stares.  
  
"Uh, should I say something?" Michael whispered to Dumbledore. The old man's eyes twinkled and he nodded. "Great." Michael said.  
  
Taking a deep breath Michael walked into the center of the room and stood on an empty table. Dumbledore, quite amused by the entire scene, sat down near the bar and ordered a cup of coffee.  
  
"Ah-hem." Michael cleared his throat. All eyes were on him now.  
  
'This isn't how I wanted my little trip to start. I suck at public speaking...' He thought.  
  
"To confirm your suspicions, yes. I am Michael Adumbro, and yes, I am an Archmage." Dumbledore was a tad surprised with the ease and calmness his young friend delivered this revelation. "I am here because of official business I must take care of with my friend Albus Dumbledore. I'm afraid any inquiries will have to wait. Thank you for your time." He finished with a small bow. 'That didn't sound forced AT ALL.' He thought to himself with a mental chuckle.  
  
This announcement left the large room in a state of shock induced silence. With a slight grin Dumbledore motioned for Michael to join him at the bar. The young Archmage rolled his eyes slightly and joined him. He was painfully aware of all the poignant stares he was receiving.  
  
"That went reasonably well." Dumbledore said to him. Michael shook his head.  
  
"The only gripe I have, or had I suppose, with the Institute is that they never taught me how to do the whole public speaking deal. I had to learn the ENTIRE history of House Elves but NO! They couldn't help me with the entire speech thing." The young man replied. Dumbledore chuckled slightly at Michael's rant.  
  
"Alas, that they did not do. Perhaps I can work on it with you. I do have my fair share of experience." Dumbledore said, a familiar twinkle in his eye. Michael snorted.  
  
"Maybe later. We've got stuff to do now, do we not?" Michael asked. Dumbledore nodded. Paying Tom the barkeep they left into the nearly deserted Diagon Alley. Michael let out a low whistle.  
  
"Man, last time I was here the place was packed." Michael said, looking around at the barren streets.  
  
"Very few are brave enough to come here these days." Dumbledore replied, sadness brutally evident in his voice.  
  
"Well, where to first?" Michael asked, looking around. Dumbledore thought for a moment.  
  
"Well, I suppose we should get you your money." He said, pointing to Gringotts. Michael nodded and set off towards the bank. About twenty minutes later, the Archmage left the bank and headed for the Apothecary.  
  
'Might as well get this done with.' He thought. But then he was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Dumbledore shout behind him.  
  
"Death Eaters!" he shouted as he drew his wand. Michael looked around and saw seven Death Eaters in the street. Make that five, as Dumbledore dropped two almost instantly.  
  
"I got the last five!" Michael shouted almost gleefully. "I could use a good workout..." He said, a menacing glare on his face.  
  
The five Death Eaters turned on him, their wands drawn. Michael's expression changed into one of a smile. He shot a great beam of light directly in front of the Death Eaters, blinding them. He then jumped into the air. He flipped forward and landed behind the middle two Eaters.  
  
He elbowed one in the back, causing him to hunch back in pain. He then grabbed him by the neck and dropped him across his knee neck first. There was a groan from the thug as he fell to the ground, clutching his fractured neck.  
  
The other one swung at him quite slowly. Michael ducked it easily. He then kneed him in the gut before knocking him silly with an uppercut.  
  
"Greetings from Chicago bitch." He said, leaning down to the two fallen Death Eaters. He didn't bother to stand up, as he could sense a curse coming his way. He spun to face the other three, still kneeling and closing his eyes in concentration. A second later an amazing display of lights filled the Alley as Michael let loose with a startling display of lighting directly at the Death Eaters.  
  
There was a blood-curdling scream from the Death Eater it connected with and soon the smell of burnt flesh filled the street. The other two Death Eaters charged him and Michael rose to his feet to meet them.  
  
Adrenaline now coursing through his vanes as he raised both arms parallel to the ground. "Stupefy." He said softly. Although he spoke quietly his spell was loud. In fact, several people inside buildings that day swore they heard a tidal wave sweep through their street. The light engulfed the Death Eaters and they were all knocked backwards into a stonewall, and damn near through it. They were knocked out immediately.  
  
"Who's next?" Michael yelled out, the adrenaline still surging through him. He looked around quickly. He was still in control of himself, but he was becoming caught in the moment at an alarming rate. This had always been a problem for him, losing himself in the rush and excitement of the moment, but he had it under control recently.  
  
Dumbledore stepped forward and put a calming hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael spun about quickly, but upon seeing his mentor's face he calmed. His breathing returned to normal. His heart rate slowed. He looked around, surveying the destruction he had caused. Several people had gathered in the street to watch the fight, but he ignored them. From the direction of the Ministry several Aurors were running towards them, wands drawn.  
  
"What's going on?" One that Michael didn't recognize shouted. By now most of the bystanders had trickled back inside, the show over.  
  
"We were attacked by several Death Eaters, Richard." Dumbledore replied to the Auror, who he must have known previously. "My young friend Michael here dispatched them quite easily." He said, as the Auror looked curiously at Michael, apparently discerning his identity for the first time.  
  
"Ah, Master Adumbro, an honor to meet you. I'm Richard McKinley." The Auror said, extending his hand. Three other Aurors had begun to take the still stunned Death Eater back towards the Ministry, where they'd be held and tried, most likely in short order. The Minister had stepped it up in the court of public opinion. There was an election soon, after all.  
  
"Always a pleasure to meet someone fighting on the same side." Michael said graciously. He then turned to Dumbledore. "You know how much this kind of thing takes out of me. I think I'll return...home and rest until... we can go over my arrangements for the year." He said slowly, carefully choosing his words.  
  
"Ah, yes. I believe the situation here is in good hands?" Dumbledore responded, turning back to McKinley.  
  
"Yes sir. Thank you for your... help." He said with a slight smile. Both the Archmage and Headmaster returned this before heading back out of the Alley to the car, where they drove a short distance to a small underground garage where they parked.  
  
"There are wards around the house." Dumbledore said to Michael as they exited the car. "So you'll have to apparate a short distance away."  
  
"Yes Albus, I'm quite familiar with apparation wards. I have been living in them for the past two or so years." He replied with a chuckle that was noticeably forced. Dumbledore shot him a sad smile before disappearing with a small pop. A millisecond later Michael followed him...  
  
Later that night, Michael woke from his coma like state he always went into when he used up a lot of energy. He was aroused by the sounds of many voices below him. He cursed under his breath. 'Did I sleep through the start of the meeting?' He wondered. He dashed down the staircase of 12 Grimmuld Place. He burst into the kitchen a moment later, startling the members of the Order of Phoenix that had gathered there.  
  
"Ah, Michael. Just in time for dinner." Dumbledore said with a slight chuckle. This didn't help to ease the tensions that several people in the room felt. A stranger had just barged in on their meeting place.  
  
"Uh, Albus... Maybe some introductions are in order?" Michael asked the Headmaster. Dumbledore surveyed the room and smiled.  
  
"Yes, I suppose that the wands currently pointed in your direction are a positive indicator of that fact." Dumbledore replied, still trying to lighten the mood. Looking about and seeing the glares on McGonagal's and Snapes face, he decided against any more jokes. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Michael Adumbro. As you can see if you examine his robes closely, he is an Archmage."  
  
All the wands that had been pointed at him dropped, as did many jaws in the room. Now that the excitement, and fear, had worn off they could feel a powerful aura in the room that hadn't been there before.  
  
Tonks, ever the one to break the proverbial ice, let out a low whistle, followed by a "Welcome to the team!" Michael laughed, and Tonks looked quite pleased with herself.  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore added. "Sit down, Michael. Mrs. Weasely was about to serve us what will undoubtedly be an excellent meal!" Michael smiled and sat down. He was aware that Severus Snape was sending him death glares, but he had been informed that he did that with every one who wasn't a Slytherin. Michael discreetly looked around the room, hoping he recognized someone. He saw no one he really knew, except by name. To his immediate left was Remus Lupin, who greeted him with a "Hello" and not much else. However, his shortness could be excused, as the full moon was only two days ago, and he was still recovering. Tonks was on his right, who smiled warmly at him.  
  
Dinner, to Michael at least, was spectacular. He was famished by the battle earlier in the day. There was a huge pot of meat stew that was chock full not only of beef, but also potato's and carrots. After two bowls he started on a third when he looked up to see he was the only one still eating. He was receiving a wide variety of looks, ranging from impatient to amused.  
  
"Feel free to start." He said to Dumbledore. "I really don't have much to add." He said, before resuming his eating. Dumbledore and Tonks both laughed, and even Lupin managed a slight smile.  
  
Most of the Order had arrived by that point, and most were anxious to begin. Mad Eye Moody, who Michael had met once before, was the only one not surprised to see him. Everyone else gasped in shock when Dumbledore introduced him again to start the meeting proper.  
  
"So," he continued after the introduction, "what news do we have of Voldemort?" He asked. His voice was even as always. Like a rock for the others to lean on.  
  
"He is bothered by something." Severus Snape said. "He isn't sleeping well."  
  
"I bet that makes him even more pleasant." Michael added sarcastically. McGonagal looked at him sharply, and Tonks stifled a laugh.  
  
"To the shock of all it didn't." Snape said dryly. Michael didn't bother trying to stop himself from laughing.  
  
"Do you know why he isn't sleeping, Severus?" Dumbledore asked him. Michael regained control of himself easily and settled back into his quiet state.  
  
"He's apparently having nightmares sir." The Potions master replied. This time Michael stifled his laugh. The idea that this grand menace they were all afraid of was being kept up by nightmares just made him crack up.  
  
"Hmm... We'll have to keep an eye on this." Dumbledore said gravely. The meeting went on for quite a while, most of it being dreadfully dull. Various reports were given, and none held much intrest for Michael.  
  
About an hour and a half into the meeting, Remus Lupin spoke up.  
  
"How did your meeting with Harry go Albus?" He asked. Molly Weasely suddenly was "woken" from her state of boredom.  
  
"Is he doing okay Albus?" She asked, worried. She held the look of a concerned mother.  
  
"He is doing reasonably well. Although he still blames himself for what happened at the Department of Mysteries." Dumbledore said sadly.  
  
"He does?" Remus asked quietly. Dumbledore nodded. "I had an idea yesterday." Remus said. "Harry's birthday is in a couple of days, why don't we throw him a party?" He asked. Several of the members, most noticeably Tonks and the Weasely's, immediately agreed.  
  
"Hmm... That does sound like a good idea." Dumbledore mused. "But where would we have it? I doubt Harry will be particularly anxious to return here." He said.  
  
"How about the Burrow?" Mr. Weasely spoke up. Molly nodded emphatically.  
  
"Yes. I believe that is a great idea." Dumbledore agreed. "I will write Harry tonight and inform him he can "visit" the Burrow. I believe he will like the party even more if it is a surprise." He said, the familiar twinkle in his eye.  
  
"That's great Albus." Molly replied. "I'll tell the kids." She said.  
  
The meeting concluded a short while later. Everyone went home, and Dumbledore made sure Remus and Michael were both settled in before returning to Hogwarts to draft the letter to Harry.  
  
"See you in the Morning, Michael." He said.  
  
"Yea. I suppose you have a party to plan."  
  
NEXT CHAPTER: In which a long overdue party is thrown and certain events are set in motion, some of which can not be undone and will have grave repercussions...  
  
Okay, there we go. I finally came up with a name for a chapter in advance to give you all a bit of a teaser. Thanks for the kind reviews. Keep them coming. Heh. –KI. 


	5. Chapter 5

Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch

Chapter 5: In which a long overdue party is thrown and certain events are set in motion, some of which can not be undone and will have grave repercussions...

Once again Harry Potter found himself in a realm that he was becoming all to familiar with. It was not a place per se, because you couldn't travel there in a car, or boat or plane. You couldn't port key or apparate their either. But Harry had been going there before, and he was starting to understand it. (As much as a place like that could be understood, of course.)

It was filled with everything imaginable, or more accurately, everything imaginable came from there. It never changed seasons there. In fact, time there was a relative concept. This place had been around since the Creation, and it would remain until the end of time.

This place was governed, or more accurately, controlled, by one man. Well, he was less a man than an entity. He went by many names, and he lived in a castle that could be anywhere at any given time. But he isn't the focus of our story.

No, Harry Potter is, and he had found The Dreaming.

At first the sheer surreal ness of it all startled him. It was the day after his visit with the one eyed man, when the thought struck him. 'I must have gone to some place, some sort of Dream Plane, and that's how that man, or whatever he was, talked to me...' He had thought at dinner that night. Tonight was his first chance to explore this place.

Harry walked about a large garden. Perhaps the person dreaming it was Japanese, as there were several scrolls with Japanese (or what Harry thought was Japanese) written on it. It was peaceful, and it was a stark contrast to his usual dreams of death and destruction. He made his way through the snaking pathways, taking the time to admire the beauty of the plants. (It occurred to him at one point that he had never given much thought to plants, and that his sudden admiration of them was extremely out of character, but he put those thoughts from his mind)

After a while (again, time seemed to be relative there. Harry would later find you had only as much time as you needed. No more, no less) Harry sat down on a beautifully carved wooden bench. Seraphim danced about it, as if it was enchanted. As Harry looked out over the horizon that hadn't been there a moment ago, he saw it again.

It was glowing, almost mystically. He could see it perfectly this time, although it seemed far away. (Distance also seemed to be relative there) It was hauntingly beautiful, almost like a strange gothic painting.

He could see what it was now. A torch. A green burning torch. It flickered majestically in the darkened sky. (It must have been decided that it was night) It sat upon a golden handle that seemed to be adorned in runes of some sort. It sat on a pedestal on top of a hill. Or was it in a cave? Harry couldn't tell this, but he knew if he could only get closer...

Harry was startled out of his sleep by his Aunt banging on the door. "BOY!" She shouted. "Time for BREAKFAST!" She rasped. Harry shook the cobwebs out of his head and grabbed his glasses. Suddenly remembering what day it was, Harry looked about his room wildly. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Hedwig was still in her cage, and there were no presents at his bed.

'Great.' Harry thought bitterly. 'They've forgotten my birthday.' He got dressed and headed down stairs, in a sour mood. He passed his uncle silently. He tried not to look at the man, but due to his girth that was difficult.

His uncle noticed the foul mood Harry was in, and decided to ask him about it. (No one ever accused Vernon Dursley of having impeccable judgment.)

"What's the matter with you boy?" He snapped. Harry stopped walking, and turned slowly on his heel. When he faced Vernon the man gulped in fear as his face turned purple. Harry was shooting him a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

"What," Harry said slowly. His voice was tipped with poison, like a dagger in the night. "Is the matter?" He echoed.

"Oh shit." Vernon muttered under his breath.

"What is the matter?" Harry asked again. "Maybe it's the fact I don't think I'm going to live to see my eighteenth birthday." He began, taking a step forward. "Or maybe it's the fact that the ONE PERSON who really cared about me is dead. Or MAYBE it's the fact my quote unquote friends forgot it was my birthday!" Harry was yelling now. Vernon didn't dare crack a smile at this last revelation.

"Eep." Came a sound from the doorway, as Dudley had entered the kitchen. He turned and left just as hastily.

Harry was barely aware of what he was doing. His head was spinning in a storm of thoughts and emotions.

"BOY!" Vernon boomed, taking advantage of Harry's momentary silence.

"DO NOT BOY ME!" Harry thundered back. "I will NOT put up with any more of you BULLSHIT! I will NOT be treated as a second class citizen in this house!" He was inches from his uncle's face now, which had turned a deep shade of purple.

"Boy," Vernon said quietly. "I will not be spoken to like that." His voice was small, but he had to say that, to keep up appearances. He would NOT lose control of his house to a... a freak like Potter.

"I will speak to you any damn way I please." Harry said, his voice bitter and cold.

"Listen to me you freak!" Vernon shouted, finding his voice again. "I don't care how you end up, but I will not let my boy Dudley get involved with all that un-naturalness! You almost got him KILLED last year!"

At this Harry snapped. All of his pent up rage, not just from the last year, but from the time he was brought to the Dursley's exploded out of him in a horrible storm of fury.

"I did not have anything to do with that." His voice was soft now. "I would NEVER hurt the ONLY FAMILY I HAVE LEFT! I may HATE you, and make no mistake that I do, but I would NEVER hurt you. I would NEVER try to get you killed!" Harry was positively terrifying now. Vernon was cowering in a corner, still trying to back up.

But then a voice came from the front door.

"Harry?" Albus Dumbledore asked. His voice was steady, calm. The twinkle in his eye was gone however, and he looked deeply troubled by what he was seeing. Harry saw him and immediately came crashing down to earth. He started backing up, looking back and forth between Dumbledore and his uncle like a scared dog.

"I'm... I'm...sorry..." He stuttered. He felt as if the world was closing in on him. He had curled up in a fetal position and he was still looking back and forth. Vernon was still to shocked (and scared) at Harry's outburst to say or do anything.

Dumbledore knelt by Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry, it's okay." He said softly. He could feel Harry shaking. "You're going to be leaving here, going to the Burrow." Harry picked his head up off of his chest at this.

"The... the Burrow?" He asked.

"Yes Harry, let's go get your things." Dumbledore said, helping the young man shakily to his feet.

Twenty minutes and three memory charms later, Harry and Dumbledore left 4 Privet Drive in the same Yellow car he had been in the last time. Harry was silent. Dumbledore let him be, knowing Harry was still playing the events of the last hour over in his mind.

"So," Harry said. "I'm going to be staying at the Burrow?" His voice was hopeful, but still a bit timid. As if he was expecting to be scolded for his behavior.

"Yes Harry, you will be staying. With the assistance of... some friends the Burrow has become a much safer place for you." Dumbledore replied.

A car cut in front of them just then, causing Dumbledore to swerve violently.

"Blasted teenage muggles." He muttered, causing Harry to smile at his mentor's uncharacteristic outburst. Dumbledore smiled then too, realizing just how silly that must have sounded.

They drove around London for another ten minutes, going up and down apparently random alleys. Upon seeing Harry's questioning look, Dumbledore snapped out of whatever trance he seemed to be in.

"My apologies. I enjoy these muggle automobiles so much I lose myself sometimes." He said, the familiar twinkle back in his eye. He turned the car down another alley, this one a dead end. "Are you ready Harry?" He asked.

Harry was unsure of what he meant, but he trusted Dumbledore...didn't he? Harry nodded, still looking apprehensive. A second later he felt the sickening familiar tug of a portkey being activated. He saw London blur about him, like on those science fiction movies when the starship goes to hyperspace. He felt a lurch near his navel, and then he was at the Burrow, still inside the lemon yellow car.

"Harry!" he was greeted loudly as soon as they landed. Harry, after checking to make sure he was all there still, looked about to find Ron Weasely, his best friend, rushing towards them.

"Hey Ron! UMPH!" He replied before getting thumped on the back roughly. It nearly knocked his glasses from his face.

"Uhh... Sorry mate." Ron said hastily. He looked a tad embarrassed. Ginny and Hermione both were coming up behind Ron, and Harry had only a second to regain his breath before being engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

'Sheesh, for two average size girls they sure are strong.' Harry managed to think while struggling for breath. 'Ginny certainly has grown up too.' Harry's mind continued. He was shook from his leering by Molly Weasely taking her turn at the smother Harry game.

"Oh Harry dear!" She practically shouted. "You look so thin! Have you been eating properly?" She fussed at him. He nodded meekly; knowing any answer he gave wouldn't suffice.

"Yes Mrs. Weasely, I have been." He replied after being released from the Weasely Vice. "I've been eating. I just have been exercising a lot." He lied through his teeth. Mrs. Weasely didn't buy it for a millisecond, and Harry could tell. But rather then chew him out in front of everyone she dropped the issue.

"Well, come inside then! You'll catch a chill!" The fact that it was still pleasantly warm out didn't seem to matter to her. "Hurry up then!" She scolded Ron as he brought up the rear. "Lunch will be ready in an Hour. Ron, why don't you help Harry unpack"? She added as a well-placed afterthought. Ron nodded and grabbed the back end of Harry's trunk and began to follow Harry up the rickety staircase.

They went inside Ron's room, which was still ablaze in a fiery orange, and began to unpack Harry's things.  
  
"So," Ron said, "how have you been?" His voice was even, sounding slightly rehearsed. Harry shrugged. After his little episode earlier in the day, he wasn't quite sure. He sat down on the spare bed that would be his for the rest of the summer.

"I'm tired." Harry said softly. He was looking down at the floor, lost in deep thought. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Do you need a nap? I'm sure Mum would hold off on dinner..." He was cut off.

"No, no." Harry said, his voice was still quiet, almost distant. "I'm not sleepy, just...." He struggled to find the words. "I'm just tired." He finished with a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry mate, didn't mean to get you all worked up." Ron apologized. Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm not mad at you. It's just... I've got a lot going on right now." Harry said, his eyes lowering back to the floor.

"You wanna talk about it?" Ron asked, almost to eagerly.

"Later, after dinner. With Hermione too." He said. Ron looked a little disappointed. "Because I'm starving." Harry added with a grin. Ron laughed.

"Okay, let's go...Hey wait!" He added as Harry made for the door. "Did you ever get your Firebolt back?" he asked.

Harry stopped short. How had he forgotten about his broom? The one that...

"I don't know. I'll have to ask Dumbledore." He replied. His stomach was really growling now. "Can we go now? I'm seriously starving." He said, not waiting for a reply. Harry was half way down the stairs before Ron was out of the doorway.

Harry ate ravenously. For the first time he could remember he didn't refuse seconds or third servings of Mrs. Weasely's wonderful comfort food. This was also the most he had eaten all summer. He continued eating long after even Ron had stopped. Several sets of eyes were on him as he shoved another course of Roast Beef into his gullet. Harry looked up, now aware that everyone was watching him. (He thought he saw a small tear in Molly Weasely's eye, but he convinced himself that it was just his imagination.) After two helpings of dessert, Harry finally pushed his plate away.

"Great meal Mrs. Weasely." He said. This was followed by a loud belch, which got scattered applause from Ron and Ginny. Harry was embarrassed by this. Hermione looked a little disgusted as well.

The rest of the day was spent doing absolutely nothing of importance, which was a pleasant change for Harry. The four lounged about, talking idly of Quiddich and summer homework.

That night Harry went to bed and slept peacefully, not dreaming at all....

Harry awoke the next morning to find the Orange room empty. He grabbed his glasses and looked around, startled. The first thoughts that rushed through his mind were that the Weasely's had been attacked. He grabbed his wand out of his trunk and dashed down the steps, nearly falling on the way.

He reached the bottom and saw that the Weasely's were assembled in the kitchen, eating breakfast merrily. Ron and Hermione were chatting quietly, and Ginny was engaged in a discussion on fireworks with Fred or George. Harry let out a sigh, and he could feel his hart rate returning to normal.

"Are you okay Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasely asked him, worry evident in her voice. Harry looked around again, just to reassure himself that nothing was wrong.

"Yes, I'm fine Mrs. Weasely. When no one was upstairs when I woke up, I thought something may have happened is all." Harry said, walking over and sitting down next to Ginny at the table. Ron laughed.

"Trust me Harry, if someone was trying to get in here without us knowing, the entire house would be awake. Dumbledore rigged all sorts of alarms and junk. A couple of weeks ago we all got woken up in the middle of the night by a loud siren. Turns out a garden gnome wandered to close to the house." He said with a chuckle. Ginny laughed too, and Harry cracked a smile.

"Pancakes dear?" Mrs. Weasely asked him. Harry nodded. Even after his little show last night, Harry was starved. Mrs. Weasely was thrilled when he asked for seconds. After breakfast she told Ron, Hermione and Harry to get dresses, as they were going to Diagon alley to meet with Dumbledore for lunch.

Twenty minutes later they were off, going by portkey to an abandoned parking garage near the Leaky Cauldron in Muggle London. They walked a short way to the Cauldron.

"We'll be meeting Dumbledore at a new Restaurant that has opened near Madame Malkins." Mrs. Weasely said as they approached the pub. They entered, and soon all eyes were on Harry.

He felt decidedly uncomfortable, almost... Naked. He didn't like the idea of being out in public without a disguise. He felt like a battle was just waiting for him around the next corner. Maybe he was being paranoid, but Mad Eye Moody's words still rang in his mind...

"Harry dear, Gringotts is that way." Mrs. Weasely said to him, startling him from his thoughts. He nodded.

"Sorry, I kind of zoned out..." He mumbled. Mrs. Weasely nodded, looking concerned. They entered and withdrew their respective money (with Hermione exchanging her muggle money).

They proceeded first to the apothecary where Mrs. Weasely insisted on them getting their potion stockpiles. (Through some miracle they had all gotten into potions this year, much to Ron's dismay.)

After finishing that they headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies to burn half an hour or so, before leaving to meet Dumbledore. They arrived at the Restaurant (a sampling of Wizard Chefs from around the world) to find the place nearly deserted, save for Dumbledore and another young man sitting with him. He was dressed (as Harry and friends were) in normal clothes. His were muggle, as were Harry and Hermione's, but Ron didn't stand out too much in his faux muggle attire.

"Hello Harry, Ron, Hermione. Molly, lovely to see you as always." Dumbledore greeted them. They all smiled and replied politely. Dumbledore could tell by their confused expressions they had no idea who his companion was. "Well," He said, turning to Michael, "I believe I owe you a coke."

"Pepsi. I hate Coke. I told you this mall-rat disguise would work." He said, showing off his black shirt with the letters ROH printed on it. He also wore a skullcap with the same logo, and black jean shorts.

"I will not doubt your fashion sense again." Dumbledore said with a chuckle, as the others stood by, slightly dumbfounded.

"Jess trained me well." Michael replied with a grin. "Oh," he said, realizing the others were more or less in the dark. "My name is Michael Adumbro. Pleasure to meet you all." He could tell Hermione's mind was already cranking way trying to place his name.

"Adumbro..." She trailed off while Michael shook hands with Harry and Ron. "Oh!" She exclaimed, causing Harry and Ron to start. "You're... You're..." She said, sounding and looking somewhat star struck. Harry confusedly recognized the look as one he received quite often.

"An Archmage. Yes." Michael said modestly. Both Harry and Ron's eyes grew wide. Harry had felt a feeling of power when he approached, but he had attributed it to Dumbledore being more active than he had ever felt him.

"Wow." Ron muttered. Harry looked taken aback. They had learned about mages and Archmages in their various classes over the last five years, but he never thought one would be so young.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, lets pick our jaws off the floor and eat." He said happily. They ordered food, and sat about eating and talking. Michael happily fielded questions from his constituents. They finished their meals and set out about the nearly empty Diagon Alley.

"So, where are we going first?" Asked Harry. He was still looking around every once in a while, much to the annoyance of Ron.

"I believe the bookstore is closest." He said, pointing. Hermione's eyes lit up and Ron's shoulders sagged. They entered the store and began purchasing their new books for the year. After that Hermione wondered off to find new material to read and Ron ventured into the sports section. Dumbledore motioned to Harry to come over to where he and Michael were standing.

"Yes Headmaster?" Harry asked, somewhat tenitively. The memory of his rampage in the Headmasters office was still fresh in his mind.

"Harry, as I am sure you are aware, you are a major target of the Dark Lord." Dumbledore began. Harry nodded. "I believe it would be wise for you to be tutored in some... Enhanced curriculum." He said with a grin. "But I believe you should have a say in weather or not you should have to shoulder a greater workload." He said, his grin disappearing into a somewhat grim look.

"Who would be doing this tutoring?" Harry asked, looking around uncomfortably.

"It would be a group project. I would do some, Michael here would help, and several of the professors have expressed wishes to assist as well." Dumbledore said, leaning against a shelf of books on ancient wizards.

"What would I be learning?" Harry asked. Dumbledore noticed he didn't sound as confident as he had in the past. Even when faced with unknown terrors and gross attacks on his person, he had always had some sort of inner strength about him, a confidence. But now that had been shattered. He seemed meek, scared. 'Rightfully so', Dumbledore thought, but that just would not do.

"Various skills you will need for the war to come." He replied simply.

"I'll be teaching you hand to hand combat, and how to use various types of wandless magic." Michael added in.

"I can do wandless magic?" Harry asked, surprised.

"If you can't, then I will personally dress up as Britney Spears for the Halloween dance." Michael said, laughing. This caused Harry to crack a smile. Not at the horrible joke, but at the fact that an Archmage thinks so highly of him.

"Okay. I guess I'll do it." Harry said. Dumbledore nodded.

"Okay, then you'll find that the extra books are already waiting for you up front." He said, smiling. Harry nodded. A few minutes later everyone paid for their books and left. After some quick stops at Madame Malkins and Olivanders for wand polish they left for the Leaky Cauldron. This time they used the Floo Network, with Ron going first. Mrs. Weasely followed, then Hermione and finally Harry.

When he landed in the Burrow his heart nearly stopped at the sight that awaited him.

"SURPRISE HARRY!"

"Holy Shit....-take mushrooms." He gasped. In the Burrow seemed to be every Gryffindor of the past ten years, and every other person who ever had spoken to Harry. Teachers, friends, and people he didn't even know were all there.

"Happy Birthday Harry. Sorry we're a day late, but we had to make sure everyone got here. " Ron said, walking up and thumping him on the back again.

Hermione walked up and put a shiny red birthday hat on his head, and someone from the back of the room tossed red and gold streamers, drawing a chorus of cheers from all the past and present Gryffindors in the room.

"All this is for...me?" Harry asked, utterly dumbfounded. Sever people laughed, others just smiled. Hermione spoke up.

"Of course!" She shouted, hugging him. "Who else would it be for?"

"Sorry. I've just never had a party like this..." He replied, head downcast.

"Don't be SORRY!" Ron said, aghast. "It's your BIRTHDAY!"

Harry cracked a smile and was led to the kitchen table, where a smorgasbord of food was laid out, and took some cake. On a table adjacent to it was a large table full of gifts. "Not that I mind, mind you, but my birthday actually was yesterday."

"Come on mate, you gotta greet the guests!" Ron said jubilantly. Harry, however, didn't match his enthusiasm. The time he had spent with his friends still didn't fill that hole that had been engulfing him all summer.

Harry walked, a weak smile across his face, from person to person, greeting them as warmly as he could. Everyone from Gryffindor, it seemed, was there. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Lavender, everyone. Harry didn't want to seem unhappy, because he wasn't, but he did wish he could just spend some time with his friends.

Soon it was time for something Harry both looked foreword to greatly and silently dreaded.

"PRESENTS!" George (or Fred) boomed out. Harry gulped, not quite knowing how to accept such generosity. He never had received presents much, and definitely not this many.

He opened and opened, thanking everyone profusely. He received books, quidditch gear (including a spiffy new pair of Seekers gloves from an absentee Charlie Weasely) and more books. Most, if not all of them looked to be quite useful (_So You Want to be an Auror,_ and_ 1,000,000 Curses and Counter Curses_ were amongst them). Remus only walked up to Harry and said "Later." Harry nodded, not quite getting the message, but just going with the Flow. Ron gave him (for once) a useful gift, _How to Duel While Flying_, much to Hermione and Harry's surprise.

"Wow, thanks Ron!" Harry said, not having to feign his happiness this time. Ron smiled; apparently pleased his gift wasn't a stinker. Hermione approached next, giving him a small gold and red medallion.

"This," she said, "is one of only 1200 made. It is a reproduction of the medallion Godric Gryffindor wore. Hope you like it." She said, shooting him a "There's more to this than that" look.

Next, to Harry's slight surprise, came Professor McGonagal. She carried a long, cylindrical object that Harry Recognized immediately.

"My Firebolt!!!!" He said happily. She nodded, a thin smile playing at her lips.

"You'll be happy to know that your lifetime ban has been lifted, and I went ahead and checked your broom for any spells or jinxes, which I found quite a few. But they are gone now. I'm sure you'll do your best to win the Cup again this year."

A hearty roar came up from the others gathered around. Harry smiled, happy to once again have his broom back, and also to have something to remember Sirius by. He felt a small tear well up in his eye at the thought of his Godfather, but he ignored it. He finished receiving his presents (most of which were practical, for once)

The party went on, with music, various shenanigans conducted by Fred and George, and even a game or two. But soon the festivities had to end. The guests left for their various abodes, leaving Harry, the Weasely's, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, and Michael.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet, "may we speak with you alone in the kitchen?" Harry rose and nodded, following Dumbledore, Remus and Michael into the spacious kitchen.

"Yes sir?" He asked, sitting down at the table. Dumbledore sat across from him, Remus stood beside Harry, and Michael paced behind Dumbledore, looking flustered.

"Sadly, we have some business to take care of. I'm sorry this has to be done on your Birthday, of all days, but there are certain... outside forces... who are trying as hard as they can to block our activities." Dumbledore said, looking slightly sad.

"... Sir, I don't understand... What do I have to do with anything?" Harry asked, confused as all get-out.

"Harry, this has to do with Sirius's will, and more specifically, the house." Dumbledore said, not bothering to beat around the bush. He could tell Harry still did not comprehend. "He left you this house Harry, as well as quite a bit of money and his family vault." Dumbledore said.

"I don't want it." Harry replied automatically. "Give it to Remus."

"Oh, don't worry Harry." Remus said, putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, "Sirius left me plenty."

"I don't want it."

"Harry," Dumbledore said. "if you don't take it, the Malfoy's will get it. They are his next relations." His face was grave, as if he needed to impress upon Harry the seriousness (a/n; oy, did I Really just make that pun?) of the situation, which was unnecessary, as Harry picked up on it as soon as the first syllable of Malfoy escaped the wizened old mans lips.

"What do I need to do?" Harry asked, his voice surprisingly even, it was a stark contrast to earlier in the day, at the Dursley's. Everyone could see the Hate in Harry's eyes, but his voice was calm, collected. Remus silently felt it was quite unnerving.

"Sign these Harry. It gives you control over the Black Family estates, and accepts everything Sirius left for you." Harry's face fell at these last words, but Dumbledore added, "You can do with those things what you wish." Harry nodded, slightly numb. He took the papers and signed where noted. He handed them back to Dumbledore, and got up to leave.

"Where do you thing you're going?" Michael asked him. Harry looked back, confused. "You haven't gotten the last of your presents yet, douche bag!" He said, laughing.

"Such crude language Michael." Dumbledore chastised.

"Sorry, it's a term of endearment back home, I swear."

"That wouldn't surprise me in the slightest." Dumbledore mused.

"Presents?" Harry asked, now growing tired, physically, and emotionally from the day he had had.

Remus smiled.

"I did say Later, did I not?" Harry just nodded. Remus flicked his wand and a large trunk appeared before Harry. "This," He said slowly, "was Sirius's. He kept all of his school things in there. There should be some pictures, journals, and other... stuff." He faltered. He looked close to tears. Harry nodded his thanks, also feeling close to breakdown.

"Harry, Michael and I have one last gift for you. These are particularly hard to get a hold of, so take good care of it, please." He handed him an (unwrapped) pensive.

"Hope this helps ya bro." Michael said, giving him a small pat on the back as he exited the room. Dumbledore stayed behind.

"Would you like me to show you how this works Harry?" He asked. Harry shook his head, much to the Headmasters surprise.

"I need to go to sleep. Can we do it tomorrow?"

"Sure Harry."

Without another word, to anyone, Harry exited the kitchen and walked up the stairs to the bright orange room and promptly fell asleep.

A/N: I'M NOT DEAAAAAD! Nope. Can't get rid of me. Almost did, but it didn't happen. Basically I totally (in one of my fits of OCD, probably) ignored this. But I came back to it, and tried to make up for the wait in sheer length. And I nearly wrote myself into a corner with it, but I think I covered it okay. Please review, if at all possible. If not, no big whoop. But I'll stop with this now, cause I hate really long authors notes. Don't you? I mean there is NOTHING more annoying than a long a/n. Okay okay, I'll stop for real. But if you bothered to read ALL of this, you should leave a review, if only so I'll thank you for being such a sucker... I mean loyal and faithful reader. Yea. That's it. – KI.


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